


A Touch Too Much

by Alobear



Series: Senses [2]
Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-24
Updated: 2017-07-24
Packaged: 2018-12-06 09:03:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11597418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alobear/pseuds/Alobear
Summary: Blair is finding the change in his relationship with Jim unexpectedly stifling.  Then an accident sends his anxiety to a whole new level.





	A Touch Too Much

**Author's Note:**

> I completed this for the 2017 WIP Big Bang, and I don't think it would ever have been finished otherwise. I must also extend tremendous thanks to unbelievable2, whose detailed beta comments helped me hit the target word count and improved the overall story no end. She also provided the awesome art to round things off.

[](https://www.flickr.com/photos/67271549@N00/35739421540/in/dateposted-public/)

XXXX

Blair was finding it unexpectedly difficult to get used to the change in his relationship with Jim. That relationship was something he had wanted for so long. But now, he was suffering a disturbing combination of the inability to believe it had actually happened and the experience of some unwelcome realities associated with it.

He was used to Jim being quite stand-offish as a general rule, and usually only instigating quite casual physical contact. This was understandable, given the sensitivity of his senses, and Blair had long been accustomed to reigning in his own exuberance and desire for closeness. Now, however, his sentinel had become the most tactile guy on the planet, literally overnight, and it was quite an adjustment.

Jim would take any and every opportunity to touch him, in much more intimate ways, no matter the circumstances, and Blair was amazed that nobody had noticed the change. He would be sitting at his desk, minding his own business, and suddenly there were be a hand in his hair. Or, he would be passing Jim’s chair, and an arm would snake out to caress the small of his back. Blair didn’t object to this; in fact, he welcomed it. But, when they were both at the loft, he was in constant fear of actually being either crushed or suffocated when all six foot one of muscular Jim Ellison glommed onto him on the couch.

It was everything he had ever dreamed of, but he was rapidly coming to the conclusion that there could very definitely be too much of a good thing. He loved sharing Jim’s bed, and the continuing experiments with Jim’s senses in a sexual context were proving quite mind-blowing, but he occasionally missed having his own space. And when Jim started joining him in the shower on a daily basis, even Blair’s enjoyment of slick skin-on-skin contact began to wane. Sometimes, he wanted to retreat to his old bedroom and shut the door, just to get a little privacy.

But the last thing he wanted to do was hurt Jim’s feelings. After everything they’d been through with Jim’s recent hearing loss, and the very newness of their relationship, Blair figured any kind of rejection on his part might be really damaging. He knew, though, that he would have to do something sooner or later, or one of two things was likely to happen. Either his frustration would slowly build until he finally snapped and reacted completely irrationally to an innocent action on Jim’s part, or the precedent of Jim’s new touchy-feely attitude would become so ingrained that there would be no way to change it.

Blair knew he would have to put all his anthropological skills to use in formulating a plan of attack. But, before he could do this, the universe conspired against him to bring the issue forcibly to the fore, in a rather less helpful way than he might have wished for.

XXXXX

Simon called them into his office as soon as they arrived in Major Crime. He grimaced at them around his unlit cigar, then plucked it from his mouth before speaking.

“I’ve got a bit of an unusual one for you, Jim.”

“Oh?” Jim sounded more sceptical than interested.

“Not really our kind of thing, but I caught wind of it from someone in the Commissioner’s office and thought you might be able to help out.”

“Always happy to further your political aims, Captain,” Jim said, drily. “What do you need me to do?”

Blair was well used, by now, to the other two carrying on this kind of conversation as if he wasn’t even there. But, even if Jim wasn’t interested in the case, he was intrigued and wanted to know more.

“One of the mayoral candidates owns a lot of property in one of the less salubrious parts of town,” Simon elaborated. “There have been rumours of corruption in his dealings, but nobody’s been able to prove anything. I thought you could visit a few of his buildings and see what you could sniff out.”

“Sniff out?” Jim raised an eyebrow.

“You know…” Simon waved his hands around vaguely. “Take a look around. Do whatever it is that you do. Figure out if there’s something iffy going on.”

“Like structural integrity?” Blair piped up. “Asbestos? Other health and safety issues that might be hard for a normal inspector to detect easily?”

“Precisely!” Simon beamed.

Jim glared at Blair. “Okay,” he said heavily. “We’ll see what we can do. Come on, Chief.”

Rhonda gave them a list of buildings and they set off in Jim’s truck.

“Well, this is a fascinating assignment, I must say,” Jim groused as he drove. “Turning into the Commissioner’s blood hound was not what I had in mind when we told Simon about my senses.”

“But if we can ‘sniff out’ corruption in the mayoral race…” Blair quipped.

“Very funny,” was the only response.

It was on their third stop that the real problems became apparent. The first two buildings had been pretty run-down and in disrepair, but Jim hadn’t been able to identify any dangerous issues. As soon as they stepped inside the third tenement block, however, he tensed.

“What is it?” Blair asked.

Jim held up a hand, clearly concentrating on something Blair couldn’t sense.

After a long moment, he said, “There’s something seriously wrong with this building. We’ve got to get everyone out of here.”

“What, now?”

“Yes!” The urgency in Jim’s tone was clear. “Right now!”

They sprang into action, knocking on doors and yelling for the residents to get out of the building. Jim needed to use his police ID to convince most of the tenants to take them seriously, so Blair didn’t have much luck persuading anyone on his own. After a concerted effort, though, they cleared the last apartment on the top floor, and Jim declared himself satisfied there wasn’t anyone still lurking anywhere they hadn’t been able to check.

They headed for the stairs, clattering down several flights. It was quite bizarre, rushing to escape a threat that wasn’t tangible, at least to Blair. He just had to trust that Jim understood the level of danger, and act accordingly. And trusting Jim was something that was now second nature to him. So much so, that when they reached the second floor and Jim suddenly yelled and thrust him towards one of the apartments, Blair didn’t question it. He was through the open door and into the kitchen before he even knew what was going on.

“Go for the fire escape!” Jim shouted, but it was already too late.

Blair felt the building shiver beneath him, and then Jim barrelled into him, tackling him to the ground and lying on top of him. There was a hideous wrenching sound and everything started moving in impossible directions. Blair felt a horrible sense of vertigo. There was some kind of impact, a sharp pain, and then only darkness.

XXXXX

Blair woke to darkness and the sensation of something heavy pressing on him. He tried to take a breath but only managed to grab a tiny amount of air. It was mostly dust, but he couldn’t even really cough. The weight on top of him was too much. It was solid, but not hard. And it was warm. Panic surged through him as he realised it was a person lying on him. Jim. Jim had thrown himself on top of Blair before - what? Some kind of building collapse?

Blair flailed desperately and freed one of his arms. He immediately started patting at Jim, trying to figure out if he was alive. He felt a huge sense of relief when he reached up to Jim’s neck and found a slow but steady pulse. They were still in quite a predicament, though. Jim was lying directly on top of Blair, pressing down on his ribs, and Blair had no leverage whatsoever to push him off. Reaching up past Jim, he discovered they were both pinned by a large block of masonry that had apparently broken off from somewhere and landed on them.

Blair’s breaths were still painfully shallow, but he managed to croak out, “Jim? Jim, can you hear me?”

There was no response, and Blair had no way of telling how badly Jim might be injured. He also had no way of knowing how long they’d been trapped there. He tried to breathe as deeply and evenly as he could, but he couldn’t focus on centring himself and his mind kept whirring with all the worst possible outcomes to their current situation. Did anyone even know where they were? Simon had sent them out to investigate but they hadn’t logged their actual destination with anyone, had they? His mind kept presenting him with worse and worse scenarios. It felt as if the floor was steady beneath them for now, but what if the building shifted again and they were buried even further?

Blair’s thoughts were spiralling and he could feel his panic rising further. The pressure of Jim on his body combined with the pressure of anxiety on his mind to create an unbearable weight. He felt suffocated, both literally and figuratively.

If Jim had been awake, at least they could have kept each other calm. But Blair’s concern over Jim’s condition just added another layer to his despair. He had no way of knowing when they might be rescued, and if the delay might cause Jim further damage. If rescue was coming at all, of course.

But no, that was stupid. Of course people would be looking for them. They had managed to evacuate all the residents before the building collapsed so surely someone would call the police or the fire department to report the disaster, wouldn’t they? But, if everyone who would normally be in the building was accounted for, would anyone even realise they were in there? Or would they think the building was empty, and so not rush to clear the rubble?

“Help!” The shout burst from Blair without him even consciously telling it to. It was a pretty weak cry, though. His breathing was so constricted that he couldn’t produce anything much louder than a croak. “Anyone?”

He already knew he and Jim had been the only people in the building, so there wasn’t going to be anybody who could hear him. He wanted to rail and scream, or just cry, but even that was denied him. A few hot, desperate tears squeezed themselves out and trickled down the sides of his face, but that was it. They were well and truly trapped, and Blair had to deal with the situation all alone.

XXXXX

Blair had no sense of how long he had lain there. It was impossible to keep track, but there were occasional slight shifts in the light levels, suggesting hours rather than minutes had passed. There were also periods when he was painfully conscious of every second ticking agonisingly slowly. He tried telling himself stories from all the cultures he had studied, but something was preventing his mind from focusing enough to hold onto a narrative. He tried to capture a story, but it just shattered into pieces, leaving him with nightmare images of ravening beasts, dark shadowy threats, or creeping flames. Jim remained an unmoving, suffocating weight on top of him, keeping his breaths shallow and his body over-heated.

Blair tried talking to Jim, but it was too difficult to find enough breath, so he lapsed into silence again after a few short sentences. He had no way of knowing how much time had passed since the building collapsed but he was starting to forget what it was like to be able take an unrestricted breath. His whole world shrank to this tiny space, and it felt as if it was all he had ever known. He shifted between panic and despair, eventually finding a kind of limbo state that allowed the time to drift by, but kept up a constant low level of horror threaded through all his thoughts.

A noise brought Blair back to full awareness and he made a supreme effort to focus on it enough to identify it. Something, somewhere was knocking. It sounded metallic, and rhythmic enough not to be caused by random movement of the building.

Blair carefully drew in as much air as he could and yelled, “Hey! Down here!”

He reached out with his free arm and thumped it against whatever he could reach, desperately trying to make their presence known to anyone who might be in the vicinity. Energised now by the hope of escape, he scrabbled in the dust and felt a pipe running along the floor beside him. A couple of seconds more and he found a small piece of masonry. He picked it up and started banging it against the pipe, hoping the sound might travel further than his pitiful shouts.

At the very edge of his hearing, he made out a scrabbling noise and, wonder of wonders, excited voices. He couldn’t hear what they were saying, but he knew from reports of rescues he had read that it was important for him to keep making noise, so the rescuers could pinpoint their location more accurately. He banged the pipe, aware that his and Jim’s lives might actually depend on it, and just kept going, until his fingers cramped up, but still he didn’t stop. His focus narrowed to that one task until he couldn’t even remember where he was and why he was banging. He just knew he mustn’t stop.

There was a burst of light and a cacophony of voices, but Blair was too far gone to acknowledge them. When the awful weight on top of him was lifted away, it was a blessed relief, but then there were hands on him and he immediately felt like he was being crushed again. He flailed against the restriction and felt his hand connect with something that gave way. There was an impact and a sharp pain on his forehead, and everything went black.

XXXXX

The sound of hospital machines beeping was so familiar that Blair found it instantly calming. It meant he was safe and someone was looking after him. His mind shied away from thinking about why he was in a hospital. At the moment, it meant other people would be paying attention to his needs for a while, and he was very happy to let them do it. He only wished someone would come along and give him some water, because his mouth was incredibly dry. He parted his lips, and slowly ran his sluggish tongue over their cracked surface. A moment later, he felt the cool plastic of a straw pushing into his mouth and his parched body took over, sucking and gulping instinctively.

“Hey, slow down there, Chief,” a voice said. The words were soft and affectionate, and Blair’s very being ached to hear more of them. Jim was there, and he was okay.

The straw went away, prompting Blair to force his eyes open. The room was too bright, but he made out the reassuring shape of Jim sitting next to his bed. Jim’s face slowly came into focus and broke into a wide smile.

“Welcome back,” he said.

A bulky white cast on Jim’s left arm drew Blair’s gaze. “You’re hurt,” he said. The words came out strained and croaky, and he swallowed.

Jim shrugged. “A couple of cracked ribs and a fractured arm,” he said, dismissively. “And we both have a concussion. Or, at least only one of us did, until you managed to knock yourself out by dislodging some brickwork as they were pulling you out. But we were incredibly lucky, considering a building fell on us.”

Blair felt a phantom weight pressing down on his chest, and he shuddered, unable to catch his breath.

Jim’s features tightened in concern, and he reached out to cup Blair’s cheek. “Hey, what is it?”

As Jim’s fingers brushed against his skin, Blair felt panic rising in his throat. His breaths came short and fast, and he flinched away from Jim’s touch, wrenching his head back. The beeping of the machine next to him sped up, and he felt his whole body tensing as if it expected some kind of attack.

“Hey, Chief, calm down,” Jim said. “It’s okay. You’re safe, and we’re both okay.”

The words had no effect. All Blair could think of was trying to get away, but he couldn’t move. His vision blurred, and he felt sweat break out on his forehead.

Another shape appeared next to Jim, and a female voice said, “What happened?”

“I don’t know!” Jim protested. “He woke up a couple of minutes ago and he seemed fine. Then he just started freaking out for no reason. What’s wrong with him?”

“Mr Sandburg,” the female voice said, calmly, “can you hear me? I need you to calm down, if you can. Try breathing more slowly. You’re perfectly safe, and you’re going to be absolutely fine.”

But her words meant nothing to Blair. He was too far gone, lost in memories of being crushed beneath a great weight, unable even to make a sound. He felt a sharp prick on his arm and, a moment later, sweet oblivion beckoned him into its embrace.

XXXXX

The next time Blair woke up, Jim wasn’t there and Blair felt a weird mixture of sadness and relief at being alone. He thought back to the panic he had experienced at Jim’s touch, and took a couple of deep, calming breaths when it threatened to reassert itself.

“I’m safe, I’m okay,” he whispered to himself, taking note of the empty space around him and the lack of anything harmful.

A few seconds later, there came a knock on the door of the room, and Jim poked his head around it, his expression uncertain.

“Hey,” Blair said, forcing a smile. He felt a slight hitch on his next inhalation.

“Hey,” Jim repeated. “I heard you from outside. Is it okay if I come in?”

“Sure,” Blair managed, though his heartbeat sped up a little as Jim entered the room and started walking towards the bed.

Jim’s step faltered and he looked wounded, but Blair didn’t have the energy to spare to worry about his partner right then. Jim stopped where he was, then changed direction and lowered himself stiffly into the chair by the window, which was several paces away from the bed.

“How are you feeling?” Jim asked.

Blair considered what to say. “Still a bit shaken, I think,” he said, obfuscating with the understatement of the century. “But physically pretty good. I guess you shielded me from the worst of it.” As he said the words, though, he wondered if that was true. He had a feeling the worst of it was yet to come.

“Yeah,” Jim said. “The doctors say you got off with just a few scrapes and bruises, apart from the bump on the head. And they’re happy there’s no real damage from that, either. So, as soon as you feel ready, we can get out of here.”

To Blair, that sounded like a judgement on his mental state, as if there shouldn’t be anything preventing him from leaping right out of the bed and skipping back to the loft, as if nothing had happened. The cast on Jim’s arm was a stark reminder of where the real damage had been done, in physical terms at least. Blair wasn’t sure what was holding him back, what was making him want to curl up under the sheets and never come out. And if he himself didn’t know what it was, he knew he wouldn’t be able to explain it to Jim. So, he fought down his resistance, pushed himself upright, and swung his legs over the edge of the bed.

“I said, when you’re ready,” Jim reiterated, gently. “There’s no rush. We both went through a lot, so it’s okay if you want to take a while to…” He trailed off, his grimace demonstrating his difficulty in finding the right words.

Freak out again? Indulge in irrational fear? Be a total wimp? Blair’s mind supplied several options and none of them sounded appealing, or manly. He shook his head firmly and got to his feet. A wave of nausea flooded through him and he swayed slightly. Jim immediately jumped up and surged forwards to provide support, but this just made Blair flinch away and end up sprawled across the bed again. Jim froze, looked stricken, and backed off again.

“Uh, your clothes are in the cupboard,” he said. “Why don’t I give you a minute to get ready and I’ll see you outside when you’re, uh, when you’re ready…” He basically fled the room, leaving Blair alone again.

Blair took a deep, shuddering breath and concentrated on getting his heart rate under control again. What on earth was going on? Why would Jim getting close to him trigger such a violent reaction? Whatever it was, Blair hoped it would work itself out soon, because it was going to make going home and sharing the loft, not to mention a bed, with Jim rather problematical.

He got dressed as slowly as he could, not relishing putting on the clothes he had been wearing when the building collapsed. They were dusty, and smelled of sweat and fear. Eventually, he couldn’t put it off any longer, and ventured out of his room and into the rest of the hospital. It was busy, with nurses bustling about and doctors making their rounds. Blair found himself almost flattening himself against the wall a couple of times to avoid bumping into people, but nobody seemed to take any notice. He made his way down a corridor to a nurse’s station, where Jim was waiting in an uncomfortable-looking chair. His face was drawn and he looked very tired. When he saw Blair, he got stiffly to his feet, but didn’t move to meet him.

Blair approached but stopped a few feet away.

“So, how are we getting home?” he asked.

“Cab,” Jim said. “The truck is probably still back at that building, assuming it didn’t get crushed or anything.”

Blair shuddered at the term, and Jim winced. Blair cursed Sentinel senses, which would pick up on his every adverse reaction, no matter how small, and tried to relax his shoulders.

Jim carried on blithely, pretending nothing had happened. “Simon called and offered to pick us up, but I wasn’t sure exactly when we’d be ready to go, and he’s still busy dealing with the case against the building’s landlord.”

Jim had trouble both climbing into and out of the cab, which made Blair feel quite guilty. There was nothing physically wrong with him, while Jim had suffered several painful injuries and would have difficulty moving around for some time. But Blair just couldn’t bring himself to cross the short distance between them and offer a supporting shoulder. They made their way up to the loft in silence.

Once inside, Blair retreated into the kitchen, while Jim went and sat heavily on the couch.

“Coffee?” Blair asked.

“No thanks,” came the reply. “I might go upstairs and lie down in a bit. The journey’s really taken it out of me.”

Guilt stabbed through Blair again, and he came to stand on the threshold between the kitchen and the living area.

“Is there anything you need?” he asked.

Jim shook his head. “I’ll take a couple of the pain pills they gave me, and I’ll be fine.”

“And remember you can dial down your touch, which might help a bit, too,” Blair offered, his guiding instincts reasserting themselves in the face of his sentinel’s distress.

“Sure, thanks,” Jim said.

Blair had a thought. “It might be better if I sleep down in my old room for a few days,” he said. “That way, you can stretch out however is most comfortable and you won’t need to worry about me being in the way.”

It was true, but the real reason he suggested it was because he couldn’t bear the thought of being in such close proximity to Jim, or anyone else, for that matter.

Jim looked disappointed, but all he said was, “Okay. If you think that’s a good idea.”

Blair escaped up to the bedroom and busied himself making the bed as comfortable as he could for Jim and collecting spare linens. Then he carried his haul back downstairs and disappeared into his old room, ostensibly to make the bed up, but mostly to get further away from Jim. He knew he wasn’t acting rationally, but he couldn’t bring himself to examine the problem yet. He just wanted to be alone, in his own space, where he didn’t have to worry about awkward questions or physical contact, inadvertent or otherwise.

XXXXX

Blair couldn’t move. There was something crushing him, and he couldn’t take a full breath. He started to panic, thrashing around, and crying out for help.

Then a door opened, flooding the room with light, and he woke up. His sheets were stuck to his sweaty body, and he was breathing heavily.

“Chief?” Jim’s voice was hesitant.

Blair tried to gather his scattered thoughts and push away the sensations of being trapped under the building. He took a couple of deliberately slow, deep breaths, and looked up at Jim with as much reassurance as he could muster.

“I’m okay,” he said, though he couldn’t stop his voice from shaking. “Just a bad dream.”

Jim started to move into the room, and Blair took in a sharp breath, his heartbeat speeding up again. Jim’s expression twisted in anguish as he evidently sensed the signs of Blair’s increased distress, and he backed up into the doorway again.

“What can I do?” he asked.

“Nothing,” Blair replied, the word coming out more harshly than he had intended. “Just leave me alone.” He softened his voice and the next word came out rather desperate. “Please?”

Jim’s eyes were wounded, but he shrugged, winced as the movement pulled at his injuries, and disappeared back to his own bed.

Blair closed his eyes tight, willing himself to calm down. Whatever this lingering panic was, it was obviously not going away any time soon. And he couldn’t function if Jim getting close to him triggered a massive anxiety attack. He looked at the clock. It was 5am. He didn’t want to go back to sleep anyway, in case he ended up under the building again in his nightmares, so he lay for a long while, staring at the ceiling and trying to figure out what to do.

Eventually, Blair heard Jim getting up. He knew Jim could probably use some help, but he couldn’t bring himself to go out and offer, and Jim didn’t come to ask. As the sounds of movement transferred to the bathroom, Blair found himself imagining Jim struggling with the shower in his cast, and guilt surged through him. But his horror at the idea of being enclosed in such a small space with Jim outweighed it, and he stayed where he was.

He got dressed hurriedly, threw a notepad and pen in his satchel with his laptop, and was putting on his jacket when Jim emerged from the bathroom with a towel clutched round his waist in his good hand. Blair’s eyes roamed over the livid bruises on Jim’s torso, a testament to how much protection his body had provided when the building collapsed. He avoided Jim’s gaze and turned to open the door.

“I’m going to the library,” he said. “I might be a few hours, but I can stop by the market on my way back. Is there anything you want?”

There was a long pause, as if the question had taken Jim completely by surprise, but Blair didn’t turn around.

“Um, nothing specific I can think of,” Jim said at last, his voice low. “We probably do need food, though, so just get whatever you think is best.”

Blair fled the loft, his guilt following close on his heels.

XXXXX

It was nearly lunchtime by the time he got back. Jim was slumped on the couch, reading the sport pages, and didn’t acknowledge Blair’s arrival, though Blair knew he must have been aware of it even before he entered the building. Blair bustled around the kitchen for a while, putting his purchases away, and cataloguing what meals he could prepare with the ingredients they now had.

After a good fifteen minutes had gone by in silence, he placed the last item in the fridge and edged towards the lounge area.

“Do you want some lunch?” he asked, hesitantly.

Jim twisted to face him, discomfort by physical and emotional registering on his face.

“I’d rather talk,” he said, and the irony of their role reversal wasn’t lost on Blair.

Blair’s shoulders slumped. He had been steeling himself for this conversation all the way home, but he had still hoped he could put it off a bit longer. But Jim had evidently had enough of his bizarre and hurtful behaviour, and wanted answers. At least, after his trip to the library, Blair now had some.

He stepped down next to the couch, then veered off to sit down heavily in the armchair off to one side. He took a moment to collect himself, very aware of Jim’s gaze on him the whole time. Then he looked up and met it squarely.

“I think I know what’s wrong with me,” he said.

Relief flooded Jim’s expression. “Great!” he said. “And you know how to make it better?”

Blair tried his hardest not to respond with frustration. Everything was so black and white to Jim. Identify the problem and fix it; so simple. But Blair thought this situation wasn’t going to be so easy to set right. He took a deep breath.

“It’s called haptophobia,” he said. “It can be brought on by certain types of trauma. It’s an acute exaggeration of the normal tendency to protect one’s personal space.”

Jim’s brown wrinkled. “What exactly does that mean?” he asked.

Blair looked down at his hands, and saw that he was twisting his fingers together in his lap. He made a conscious effort to still them. “Basically, it’s a fear of being touched. And, I think because of what happened to us, it’s most strongly associated with you in my mind.” Blair sought refuge in the specific terminology he had discovered in his research at the library. “It’s commonly expressed as a fear of invasion.” 

It turned out to be entirely the wrong approach, as Jim responded with frustration. “You think I want to invade you?” He almost spat the word, as if it was poisonous.

Blair cringed away from his anger. “No, of course not, man!” he protested. “But it’s not something that responds to rational argument.” He was pretty frustrated himself, and didn’t appreciate Jim taking his explanation the wrong way. “If I could just tell my brain not to be ridiculous, I would, but it’s stuck in flight mode, and you being aggressive is only going to make things worse.”

Jim sat back into the couch cushions, and rubbed his good hand over his face.

“Okay, you’re right. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Blair said. “I know you’re hurting, and I know I haven’t been helping you as much as I should. I just…” He trailed off, shrugging helplessly at the impossibility of explaining the situation to Jim.

“Don’t worry about that,” Jim said. “I get that what happened is affecting you more than I realised. But what do we do?”

Blair relaxed a bit, reassured by Jim’s words, and glad that he seemed to be taking the problem on board. “I don’t know,” he said. “I think there are various things that can help. But I don’t think I can sort this out on my own. I think I’m going to need some help.”

“I’ll do whatever I can,” Jim said immediately. “Just say the word.”

“Thanks,” Blair said, with a smile. “And I appreciate that, man. I really do. But I mean professional help.”

“Oh, I see,” Jim said, though his tone suggested that would never have occurred to him. His expression brightened as he evidently had a thought. “There’s a psychologist attached to the department. I can see if I can get you an appointment. You were on a case with me when this happened, after all. I think it’s the least they can do, to get you the help you need.”

“That would be great,” Blair said. “Thanks, Jim.”

It suddenly felt really alien to be so far away from Jim, and Blair could see the desire to offer physical comfort clearly radiating from him, but Jim remained on the couch, and Blair remained in the armchair, the few feet between them feeling like an unbridgeable chasm. But the first structural supports for a bridge were now within their grasp, and they had the beginnings of a plan to build them.

XXXXX

The following day, Blair was feeling much more positive about the whole situation when he got home. Jim was waiting for him, after another day of enforced inactivity at the loft.

“You look happier,” he said, as Blair came in, burdened with a large paper sack.

“Yeah,” Blair said with a grin. “Today has been a good day.”

“That’s great!” Jim enthused. “So, the department psychologist was useful, then?”

“Oh no,” Blair countered. “He just wanted to put me on beta blockers, which is so not the answer.”

Jim frowned. “I know you don’t like taking medication, Chief, but don’t you think he might know what’s best in this situation? I mean, he’s pretty experienced at dealing with trauma.”

Blair felt an almost overwhelming impulse to flip his lid, but he reminded himself that his reactions weren’t rational at the moment, took a deep, centering breath, and explained.

“Beta blockers mask the physical symptoms of anxiety, but they don’t address the root mental cause. They also stifle creativity and can have some quite nasty side effects. They’re probably fine for cops who want to keep functional and are resistant to delving into their psyches, but they’re definitely not for me.”

Jim raised his hands in surrender, and Blair was glad he wasn’t going to put up more of a fight.

“Okay, okay,” Jim said, though his tone was gentle. “So, the appointment was a bust. What’s got you so upbeat, then?”

“I went over to Rainier and introduced myself to Natalie Grossman, the Head of the Psychology Department there. I explained everything to her and she had some great advice.” Blair indicated the paper sack he had deposited on the kitchen counter. “There are tons of herbal alternatives to beta blockers - certain types of tea; kava extract, which is a pepper from the South Pacific; ashwaghandha, which is the most powerful herb used in Ayurvedic healing in India and has amazing restorative effects; a root called Rhodiola Rosea, which grows in Arctic regions…”

Jim interrupted. “So, the Head of Psychology at Rainier is just as much of a hippy witch doctor as you are. But that still doesn’t solve the mental aspect of the problem.”

“Ah, but that’s not all she had to suggest,” Blair said with a grin. “She’s a qualified psychotherapist, and she wants to try a course of exposure therapy with me, to gradually re-introduce me to being touched, in a safe and protective environment.” A shiver ran through him and Jim raised an eyebrow. “I have to admit it doesn’t sound that appealing at the moment, but it’s got to be worth a try. I can’t go on with things as they are.”

“What does she look like, this psychotherapist?” Jim asked in an odd tone.

“Five ten, late thirties, blonde…” Blair trailed off as he noticed Jim’s expression darkening. “Are you seriously getting jealous of my therapist? Can’t you just be supportive?”

He watched as Jim visibly schooled his expression back to neutral. “I’m sorry, Chief,” he said, heavily. “But if she’s going to have her hands all over you…”

Blair gave an exasperated sigh. “Come on, man! It’s not going to be like that. I need help, and it seems like that’s what she can offer. We can’t fix this on our own.”

“Can’t we?” Jim’s tone was pleading. “If it’s just a case of gradually re-introducing you to being touched, I can do that.”

Blair thought it was probably more complicated than that, but Jim’s expression was so pathetic, he relented.

“Okay, we can give it a try.”

Jim made space for Blair on the couch and Blair slowly moved to join him. He sat down gingerly, trying to keep his breathing even. Jim caught his eye and smiled encouragingly, then gradually brought his good hand up and inched it forwards as if to cup Blair’s cheek. As Jim’s fingers drew closer, Blair felt his heart speed up but he tried to remain calm.

“It’s okay,” Jim said softly. “I love you and I’m not going to hurt you.”

That was all very well, and lovely to hear, Blair thought, but the message wasn’t getting through to calm his overwrought flight instinct. His mouth was dry, and he could feel himself tensing up, muscle by muscle. His eyes flicked from side to side, looking for an escape route, but he felt helplessly trapped. A wave of nausea flooded through him and he knocked Jim’s hand away, leaping off the couch and fleeing to the other side of the room. He leaned against the wall, gulping air into his lungs and trying not to throw up.

After several long moments, he collected himself enough to straighten up and turn back around. Jim was staring at him in open-mouthed horror.

“Therapist?” Blair said.

“Therapist,” Jim agreed.

XXXXX

A few weeks went by, and Jim and Blair settled into an uncomfortable routine. Jim’s injuries healed enough for him to go back to work, at least on desk duty. Blair went with him most days and did his best to help out as much as possible with research and paperwork, while avoiding any and all physical contact with anyone at the station, or anyone else for that matter. Blair continued to sleep in his old room, and they didn’t really talk about anything deeper than what they were going to have for dinner, or the details of the case files they were reviewing. It was horrible. Blair felt as if the most important part of his existence had been amputated, and he suffered almost constant phantom pain from the loss. He knew Jim wasn't any happier but there was an unspoken consent between them that the elephant in the room would remain unremarked upon.

Blair was glad Jim was giving him the space to work on the problem in his own way and in his own time. It would have been far worse if Jim had jumped on him and demanded details and timeframes when he got home from every therapy session. But Blair did wish they were better able to talk about the situation in a less emotionally charged way.

So life went on, and they led it in the best way they could, sharing space companionably enough, just with a gaping void between them that Blair was gradually starting to build a bridge across. He went to see Natalie three times a week and, initially, progress felt painfully slow. But, bit by bit and session by session, things started to get easier, until Blair decided it was time to make a move.

He had been home from his latest appointment for a couple of hours and had just finished meditating when Jim entered the loft.

“Hey,” Blair said, trying to sound casual. “Can you come in here a minute?”

Jim stepped down into the lounge area and regarded him with obvious concern.

“Everything okay?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Blair replied, then patted the space on the couch next to him. “Come sit down.”

Jim looked surprised by the invitation but immediately moved to sit down, being careful to leave some space between them.

“What's going on, Chief?” he asked.

Blair took a deep breath. “Well, Natalie thinks I'm making good progress. But she also thinks we need to start working on the more specific aspects of the problem, namely you.”

Jim frowned. “What does that mean?”

“She wants -” Blair broke off and started again. “I would really like it if you could come along to a couple of sessions so she can work with us together.” He rushed on. “I haven't told her who you are, so you can say no and she won't be any the wiser. But I think it would really help, and she's very discreet. Plus, there's doctor-patient confidentiality -”

“Chief,” Jim interrupted gently. “It's okay. Of course I'll come. I want to help as much as I can. Whatever it takes for you to get better.”

Blair let out a breath he hadn't realised he was holding, and smiled. “Thanks, man,” he said. He really didn't give Jim enough credit sometimes. 

XXXXX

Sitting on the bench outside Natalie’s office, Blair felt like an undergrad waiting to be berated by his supervisor for poor performance. He caught Jim looking pointedly at the way his knee was jiggling up and down, and he stilled it with a nervous smile.

“Why so antsy?” Jim asked. “I thought you said the therapy was going well.”

“It is,” Blair said.

So why was he so antsy? He hadn’t been anxious about his sessions with Natalie since the very first one, when it had all still been a terrifying unknown. But, since then, they had built up a good rapport, and he found it easy to open up to her. Perhaps that was the problem. He had told her things - about the experience in the building, certainly, but also about his relationship with Jim - and he was worried Jim might not be happy about that. Having Jim there put his sense of how the therapy might go back into the realms of uncertainty.

Before he had the chance to elaborate on Jim’s question, the door opened and Natalie popped her head out. She smiled reassuringly at them.

“Come on in,” she said, and they both rose to follow her into her office.

She closed the door behind them and gestured to the leather couch in one corner of the room. Blair sat down, with Jim sitting next to him, a careful few inches away.

“Hi Jim,” Natalie said, sitting down in an armchair across from them. “It’s great to finally meet you, and I’m so glad you were able to join us today.”

“I’m happy to help in any way I can,” Jim said, and Blair relaxed fractionally at his open willingness.

He immediately tensed up again at Natalie’s next words.

“It’s good to hear you say that. But does that extend to exploring your own feelings about your relationship, as well as helping Blair to deal with what happened to him?”

Blair glanced sideways at Jim, and saw his jaw tighten, but Jim’s voice when he replied was calm and neutral.

“How do you think that would help?”

“There may be an underlying issue that predates the building collapse, and which is feeding into Blair’s aversion to being touched.” Natalie turned her gaze to Blair. “Can you explain to Jim how you were feeling before all this happened?”

Now Jim was looking at Blair as well, a frown marring his forehead. “Chief?” he said. “What’s this about?”

Blair had known Natalie would likely bring this up, but he had been hoping for a more gentle lead-in and a bit more time to prepare. Still, he supposed there was no point in avoiding the issue and perhaps it was better just to get right to the heart of it straight away. He shifted slightly to turn more towards Jim, and looked up at him.

“It’s something I was meaning to bring up before…” He trailed off as he felt an involuntary shudder run through his body, and he saw Jim register it too, his expression becoming more concerned. “You know I love you, and that I’d been wanting us to get closer for a long time, even before you lost your hearing.” Jim nodded. “And I was over the moon when it finally happened. But, once you got your hearing back, you kind of took our new situation maybe a bit too far.”

The frown was back. “What do you mean?” Jim asked.

Blair shifted uncomfortably. He had known even before the incident in the tenement block that this conversation would be difficult. He wasn’t sure if Natalie being there made it harder or easier, but he knew they wouldn’t even be having the conversation if it wasn’t for her, so he forged on.

“Before all this haptophobia mess, I loved that you wanted to be close to me, and that you enjoyed us being physically intimate so much,” he said, trying to open the subject as positively as possible. “But I did sometimes feel that I wanted a bit more space. It seemed like you were always right there, not just in the same place, but literally right on top of me. I couldn’t even escape in the shower.”

He knew he’d chosen the wrong words as soon as they were out of his mouth.

“You wanted to escape?” Jim said, his tone hurt. “It was that bad?”

Blair desperately wanted to reach out to comfort Jim, but he couldn’t bring himself to initiate the physical contact. He had never felt so helpless in the face of Jim’s distress.

“No, man,” he said. “That came out wrong. It’s just that it sometimes got a bit overwhelming, and it seemed like you were going a bit overboard.”

“And you think this is contributing to the phobia now?” Jim asked.

Blair looked at Natalie for help, unsure how to proceed. She leaned forwards slightly.

“It’s possible that the prospect of your relationship returning to that uncomfortable level of physical contact may be hindering Blair’s recovery. It’s important right now for him to feel completely safe and secure, and concerns about this might get in the way of that.”

Jim was silent for a long moment, clearly thinking hard. Blair half expected him to get all defensive and refuse to acknowledge his part in the problem, but he was wrong. Natalie didn’t jump in, allowing Jim the time to process what had been said. Eventually, he swallowed audibly and spoke slowly.

“I think I was scared,” he said.

The words took Blair completely by surprise. “Of what?” he asked.

Now it was Jim’s turn to shift uncomfortably. “It was all so new and unexpected,” he said. “And so wonderful. I think I was holding on too tight, because I was scared it wouldn’t last.”

Natalie nodded, as if this was exactly what she had expected him to say. Blair, on the other hand, was floored.

“What would make you think that?” he said. “Did I ever give you the impression that I wasn’t in this for the long-term?”

“Not in so many words, no,” Jim admitted. “But your track record with relationships isn’t exactly stellar. I didn’t just want to be another notch on your bedpost.”

Blair immediately bristled at this, but then realised Jim had a point. He did have a history of casual flings, and he had to admit his attitude to relationships hadn’t been one of steadiness or commitment. But Jim was a completely different prospect, and he was amazed that Jim didn’t know that. He decided to be absolutely clear on that point.

“But it’s totally different with you,” he said. “What we have is special, and I wouldn’t ever want to do anything to mess that up.”

He saw Jim relax. “That’s good to hear, Chief,” he said. “I’m sorry you felt like I was smothering you. And I hate that it’s making things worse for you now.”

“But it doesn’t have to,” Natalie said, and Blair was a bit startled at the reminder she was there. “Now that you’ve got the issue out in the open and have been honest about your feelings, there’s no reason we can’t work together to make things better between you. I don’t think we should take things any further right now, though. What you’ve accomplished here today is very important, and I think it would be best for you both to reflect on it for a while before we move forwards. Thank you both for your time and your honesty.”

XXXXX

When they got back to the loft, Blair was feeling better than he had in a long time. He hadn’t realised how much the unspoken issue between them had been blocking his approach to his recovery, and he was really impressed by and grateful for the way Jim had handled the session.

“Thanks for coming with me,” he said. “And thanks for being so open-minded about it.”

“I’ll admit the whole thing took me a bit by surprise,” Jim said, “but I said I was willing to do whatever it takes to help you get better, and I meant it.”

Blair beamed at him. “There’s something else I'd like to try, if you don't mind.”

Jim nodded for him to continue.

“You remember when we tried the exposure therapy ourselves that time, before I started seeing Natalie?”

Jim gave a wry smile. “How could I forget?”

“Well, I’d like to try it again.”

Jim looked at him searchingly, hope and apprehension warring in his eyes. “Are you sure?”

Blair took another deep breath, and said, “Yes.”

They both moved to the couch and sat down so they were facing each other. Jim hesitantly lifted his hand and started moving it slowly towards Blair. He evidently sensed the almost immediate increase in Blair’s heartbeat, and froze.

Blair maintained eye contact and said, “It's okay. Keep going.”

Jim obeyed, gradually inching his hand closer, as Blair worked to remain calm and not over-react. He felt the familiar anxiety, but it was overlaid with anticipation and longing, so he focused on those and willed his body to accept his lover’s touch. When Jim’s fingers finally touched his skin, he felt an almost electric jolt, but he didn't flinch away from it. Instead, he brought his own hand up to cup Jim’s and turned his face slightly to kiss Jim’s palm. Then he dropped his hand back down into his lap and Jim did the same.

Blair felt a weird mixture of relief and loss at the break in contact, but he couldn’t help grinning at the joy on Jim’s face when he looked up. It was a tiny step forwards on what was still a long road ahead of them, but it was also a victory of huge significance. There was hope now, where before there had only been despair.

Jim regarded him with open affection and said, “Welcome home.”

THE END


End file.
